


Your heart is heavy and red

by ninhursag



Category: Dreamer Trilogy - Maggie Stiefvater, Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Femdom, Fisting, Hurt/Comfort, Men Crying, Pegging, Protective Jordan, Sex Toys, declan lynch gets wrecked, declan lynch needs it bad, sex and feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:35:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27993873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninhursag/pseuds/ninhursag
Summary: This is for everyone who knows implicitly that Declan Lynch needs to be completely wrecked until he cries and Jordan is just the woman to do it.Filthy, with feelings.**Declan Lynch is blandly handsome in a suit, so smooth you can't see through to the shadows under his eyes. His teeth are even and he uses the leave-in conditioner that tames his dark curls.That's why Jordan takes him out of his suit. It's discarded on the ground, pants and shirt and jacket crumbled in a messy pile by the door. He would have folded it perfectly if he'd been allowed.
Relationships: Jordan/Declan Lynch
Comments: 10
Kudos: 58





	Your heart is heavy and red

Declan Lynch is blandly handsome in a suit, so smooth you can't see through to the shadows under his eyes. His teeth are even and he uses the leave-in conditioner that tames his dark curls.

That's why Jordan takes him out of his suit. It's discarded on the ground, pants and shirt and jacket crumbled in a messy pile by the door. He would have folded it perfectly if he'd been allowed.

She takes his hands in hers, blunt nails painted red curling against the cream of his palms. In answer he makes an almost soundless gasp. She kisses his cheek, gentle, gentle now. Tastes stubble and skin and costly subtle aftershave. 

Even naked, everything about him is invisibly expensive, down to the smooth muscle of his body.

Other than the bruises, those were given free of cost.

"Lay down on your back," she tells him. "Knees apart." She waits for obedience. "Wider. Wider."

She watches him like that, while the muscle of his thighs shake. His eyes are closed and his legs are so open, inviting. His cock too, pressed up against his stomach, smeared wet around the tip. Awaiting hands on it.

She doesn't touch him, not right away. She sits in close and draws him instead, sprawled out on the bed next to him. Just charcoals on paper, fast and messy strokes, the lines of his body recognizable and deniable all at once where a photograph would not be. Just for her.

His eyes are closed and he doesn’t move even though the effort of holding himself just so costs him. She doesn’t tell him not to worry, he’s going to be repaid in kind for the effort. That’s a promise she knows she will keep even if he doesn’t want to hear it.

Finally, finally, the sketch pad is laid aside, casual and open on the nightstand and she pulls out her other tools.

A dildo, silicon smooth and primary colored, looking nothing like a cock. The lube, water based and organic, naturally. A glove that fit perfectly to hand. 

“You can come as many times as you need to,” she tells him, matter of factly. “But I won’t stop until I’m done, so think about that.” 

“That’s fine,” he tells her, uneven and strained, but perfectly correct. She smiles at him and he opens his eyes. They are already a little damp looking around the lashes.

She warms the lube up with her hands first, allowing herself the pleasure of tracing down the v of his hips and the line of hair trailing down his belly to his cock. Soft curls left messy by sticky hands. His stomach pulls in tight and she feels the heat of that in her own belly, loins aflame.

Nudges him a little with a denim clad knee to get him that much wider. “Raise your knees to your chest for me, love,” she murmurs and he does, shivering in relief at the easier position. 

She doesn’t touch his cock, that would be unfair. Maybe he won’t even need that in the end. His hole is better exposed now and she traces a finger around it, testing. He makes a sound, mostly just a release of air.

He’s tight. He is always so tight, held so guarded and hard even like this, knees to his chest with every stitch that should have covered him discard in a heap. It is her job to open him. He is tight and dry and smooth and soundless air under her hands. It is her job to make him sticky and wet and loose. 

She works at it, puts her hands and her elbows and her back into it. Gentle fingers then rough, one and another, sliding into his body, held in by him. 

“You’re very pretty like this,” she tells him, seriously, and he laughs at her, just like he is, with three of her fingers buried inside him and his cock so hard and red flushed it looks like it must be painful. 

“Thanks, you too,” he says, dust dry toned with that laughing mouth. She smacks his thigh with her free hand, but not hard enough to mark him. 

The dildo goes in smooth after that, his body having given up its resistance to the intrusion. It earns another sound, a low, deep easy moan. His cock moves with it. His arms and his elbows and his knees. 

She fucks him for a while, hot and hard and wishing and wanting for what he has got between his legs, her own thing to take him with. He would like that, maybe, flesh and blood. He will get that, in the form of fingers if not dick. 

She catches him before he comes, grabs his cock with her hand and points it up, up, so that the semen smears over his own belly, his own chin, himself. 

She stops again after, while he waits and glares at her. Smiles. Picks up the sketchpad.

“Jordan,” he says. “Fuck you.” 

“Declan,” she tells him with mock seriousness. “We are fucking you today, and you are taking it beautifully.”

She draws him like that, in charcoal, semen wet and momentarily spent, glaring eyes and not quite smiling mouth with its gently parted lips. Open ass with the dildo still inside. He is not recognizable like this, not to anyone who has seen him outside this room. He is lovely.

He’s tightened a little when she restarts, a sound of complaint, sore and oversensitive. It is not an objection, so she kisses his cheek and keeps going. Toy replaced again by fingers.

He’s getting it all today, all filled up to unbearable. The look on his face, laughter and irritation wiped off of it, that is something now. He is so tight. He will be so loose when she’s done with him, used up and open behind her defenses only.

The sounds he makes.

There is nothing like it, having your hand reached all the way inside of a boy like this, a man like this. His face is wet, semen and tears. Tears and semen.

He sobs.

She leans down and puts her mouth around the head of cock.

He sobs. 

She sucks down, hollowing her cheeks, tasting, tasting, taking what is given and more than that. 

He doesn’t stop crying for a long time after, but she holds him through it, clean hand in his curls, the other still gripping his ass. He shakes and she holds him and he shakes and she kisses his mouth.

It is only after, when the sobs cut out to hiccups that Jordan pats his cheek. Only a little mean but very smug when she murmurs to him, "let's see how long you can last next time."

And he glares at her again then, all bare assed and spunk soaked and perfectly destroyed. She just smirks and whatever he sees in her face makes him laugh again too, sudden and perfect. She's helpless against that, just holding him loose and relaxed in her arms.

In a moment, she will get up, brush her teeth and bring back a towel to clean him off. In a moment, she might slide off her own jeans and show him where she is wet. He’s too gone to do anything about it, but he’d like to watch, she thinks.

“You’re terrible,” he says, sloppy and messy and crumbled as his suit. Hers entirely.

“Your terrible,” she tells him and he laughs again, bright as anything.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr @ninswhimsy


End file.
